


Deserts of New Mexico

by BummedYourFag



Series: Prompts [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Croatoan/Endverse, F/M, New Mexico, Recreational Drug Use, Road Trips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-17
Updated: 2017-07-17
Packaged: 2018-12-03 11:57:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11531733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BummedYourFag/pseuds/BummedYourFag
Summary: Once, they had Heaven and Earth, wings and grace. When the world is defined by Before and After, memories fade slower than you'd think.





	Deserts of New Mexico

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ThornsnHoney](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThornsnHoney/gifts).



> Prompt: "I want to see Angel Meg and Endverse Castiel."

They drove. The truck bed was full of equipment, water and gas, ever dwindling as Kansas turned into Oklahoma, then Texas, and finally a few hours ago they’d probably passed into what had once been New Mexico. Before the virus, before Camp Chitaqua. Castiel attempted to nap while Meg drove through the night, but sleep wouldn’t come. The endless grind of gravel and sand and more gravel under the wheels vibrated into his teeth as he leaned on the passenger door. They were driving in shifts, six hours each, trying to outrun their own exhaustion. Meg was faring better than him, the remains of her grace keeping from needing much sleep. 

The sun would rise soon.

“We should stop,” he muttered. “A short break.”

Meg nodded - or so he assumed - somewhere to his left, and slowed, coming to a halt and turning the engine off.

“Road trips suck,” he said, as he more or less fell out of the truck.

“It was your idea to go,” Meg said. He hummed, stretching and running a hand through his hair. “Drive from Kansas to California because of some dumb -”

“It’s a  _ road trip _ ,” he said. “It’s a heroic quest. Charlie said so. One epic road trip through dangerous lands to cure the Earth before we all go  _ schplatt _ . ”

He squinted at her. Her dark hair curled over her shoulder as she stood behind him in a worn black t-shirt and jeans that had probably also been black. The dust from the gravel road covered her hair, the dry air making it frizzy. New Mexico sucked. Road trips sucked. They hadn’t always, back when road trips were about highways and motels, Dean in the Impala, leather seats and rock on the radio.

“We will probably go  _ schplatt _ anyway, though,” he added.

She snorted. “You’re so depressing when you’re sober.”

“You’re right. Why am I sober again?”

“Roadtrip. Driving.” Meg gestured to the truck they had parked in the middle of the desert, her upper lip lifting into a sneer. “The epic quest you just talked about.”

“It seemed appropriate at the time,” Castiel agreed. “I think I changed my mind.”

“About the roadtrip? Thank God. Bit late though.”

Castiel laughed, but there was no real mirth in it. “Father’s long gone. I meant the sobriety.”

He pulled out Dean’s old duffle from below the tarp over the trunk bed, rooting around in the bag it for the joint. Meg groaned, stalking to his side and jumping up to sit on the tailgate. He joined her soon after, the acrid smoke curling from his joint. She shook her head when he offered it, shoulders slumped forward as she stared at the vast emptiness of the desert and the first rays of sunlight far to the east. There was nothing out here. No life, no Croatoans, no camp… just sand and dust.  _ I don’t like sand,  _ Dean’s voice mocked in his mind.  _ It’s coarse, and rough, and irritating, and gets everywhere. Fucking end of the world and all I get is whiny angst and Jar Jar Binks . _

“Ashes to ashes,” Castiel muttered, leaning back over the hood of the truck, seeing little more than Meg’s back.

“Once, I could have flown,” Meg said quietly. “Once, I had wings.”

Castiel laughed again, looking up at the paling sky and the stars disappearing into the light. He’d been to some of those stars before. Before … everything.

“We had many things once. I was an angel,” he said. “You still are, there’s still grace in you.”

“Such optimism coming from you, Clarence. That didn’t take long,” she drawled.

He hummed and took another hit, slowly releasing the smoke and watching it curl upwards. Meg twisted to look at him. Had they been in Heaven, he could have sworn her wings - back when she still had them - would have been curled tight along her back in melancholy.

“Why are we doing this again?” she asked.

“Because we need to. There’s one chance, and one only - “

“Oh, fuck off. Not that. Saving Earth - why? Why us? Why now?”

“Eh.” Castiel shrugged. “Got nothing better to do. Sex, drugs, saving the world. Gabriel would have been proud.”

“Gabriel,” she muttered, then laughed, sounding as hollow as Castiel felt. “You’re right, being sober  _ is _ depressing. Shotgun?”

“Thought you’d never ask, Dorothy.” Castiel grinned.

He heaved himself up and took a hit, his lips meeting hers and passing the smoke from his own lungs to hers. She sighed against his lips, crawling across his lap, and well - if one crippled angel without wings and one ex-angel on an epic quest to save the world ended up on the tailgate of a 1990 Ford pickup somewhere in the desert in New Mexico…

It wasn’t as though the world gave a shit.

**Author's Note:**

> This one was bleaker than I originally thought, but I still love it for some reason! <3 Thanks for the prompt! 
> 
> PSA: I'm taking prompts for funsies, simple stuff I can fit into 500-2000 words. I'll write most things, except Wincest. Feel free to comment with a prompt and I'll see if it's something I feel like writing. The ones I do, I do in order of request and I'll gift it to you if you leave your AO3 name, and/or tweet the link at you if you leave your twitter handle.


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